


A thousand sighs to save

by vermicious_knid



Series: The world turned over [2]
Category: Twelfth Night - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 07:06:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3348059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermicious_knid/pseuds/vermicious_knid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small drabble inspired by watching the latest swedish production of the same play. </p><p>Note: on the stage they have a giant silhouette of a sun in the far background which rises and falls across the "sky" and that is why it is featured so heavily here</p><p>(title is taken from Festes second song)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A thousand sighs to save

 

The fool was not a beggar (or so he said, many times) and the treasures he took were small but plentiful. That was expected.

The cool sun glinted and startled, catching on the coin she intended to give him. _See here, what I have for you!_

But he wouldn’t take Cesaris money, or the ring. Oh no. Try as she might, he only jumped away from it as if she was holding a dead rat (giggling, coal eyes gleaming).  Instead he asked for kisses. On the hand. Such a simple thing, he said. _I only ask so little of you._

She, well _he_ obliged his whim, no harm she thought, in such a gesture. No harm indeed.

Then it escalated, you see. 

In the tavern, it was a quick peck at the nape of her neck in passing. She hadn’t even asked him of anything. The ghost of fading laughter the only signature. 

Sneaking up from the shadows of snow and dusk, he stares at her across the street. The sun is low and paints his harlequin skin a somber grey. She hurries past him and pretends not to have noticed his silent question. There are no kisses this time.

Just the two of them, In Olivia’s garden after her departure. His pirate smile and her awkward boyish gait. it had been a kiss on the tender side of her wrist. She felt teeth behind those lips. The sun turning upside down and slowly sinking, growing inside her skin and the graceful bow of his back. The sun lays perfectly still on it’s peak, watching the moment. His clever eyes exposing her, mocking her. 

He never asked for more than one.

The sun turns from belly up and rises, floats clear and above them all once more. It lets her breathe for once and think. These days, she thinks less of the duke and more about the difference between a fool and a trickster.

The kiss delivered on her forehead while drunk is far more tender than the past ones, or maybe it’s the spirits gone to her head. She looks at him and feels far too somber to be drunk. She tries to ask him why he isn’t singing. Or why it has to always be one kiss and not three. Instead she falls asleep in his lap, his rough fingers tapping out a gentle tune across her back.

 


End file.
